


align my heart

by Cerberusia



Series: at the foot of this hill [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Crying, Incest, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, Parent/Child Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 19:50:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9139744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerberusia/pseuds/Cerberusia
Summary: "I don't know how to talk to you," says Dad. "I don't think I ever knew how to talk to you." It's true, and it hurts Ben deeply."Then just fuck me again," he snaps, and Dad's face goes white.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just squeaking under the wire here to post the sequel to _collect your courage_ , that labour of love. Han/Kylo incest is a niche and by god, I am filling it. Happy New Year!

The first night, Han goes to pull out the truckle bed in the living area that Ben used to sleep on when his father and uncle took him on their trips.

Ben puts a hand on his arm. Han lets the bed slide back into its compartment.

Han's bunk is extremely comfortable - the nest of a spacer who'd grown up without soft things. Ben remembers creeping into his father's berth as a small child, the earliest he could justify being up, and being picked up and held on Dad's chest. Even as a teenager, he'd slept poorly, waking twice a night for no clear reason.

Ben wraps himself around Han, entangles their legs, and sleeps soundly every pseudo-night.

He sleeps more than he has in years. They stay in bed for long hours into the artificial morning. He knows Han's awake, but his father stays in bed with him, safe and secret under the covers. If they don't talk, they don't have to fight.

It helps that Ben manufactured a message to send Chewbacca hurrying back to Kashyyk before he came aboard. He couldn't have faced Uncle Chewie as well. He'll realise what Ben's done, of course; but the journey to Kashyyk from Bastatha takes weeks, and by then Ben will have either resolved to go back home, or taken the final step and killed his father.

Han's always repairing something on the _Falcon_ ; she was an old ship when Han won her, and with the wear and tear she gets her parts only last so long. Ben helps. It's like being a teenager again: Han says, "Hey, I need a -" and Ben floats the wrench or cap or whatever down to him before he can finish. Sometimes it makes him laugh like it used to.

But sometimes, they have to talk.

"Why can't you just-" Han makes a frustrated gesture. They're in the living area, both standing, though Ben doesn't recall getting to his feet.

"Because it doesn't work like that." Ben feels his shoulders hunching and straightens up again. "If it did, I would have found him already!" He doesn't say _and killed him_ \- they're both trying not to bring the murdering thing up. That doesn't keep him from thinking about it a lot.

"Maybe it'll work better this time!" Han is thinking: _It's just like old times._

" _Dad_ , I _told_ you that's not how it works!" He sounds like he's regressed ten years to a whiny teenager. It's awful.

"Ben, would you just _try_? OK, it might not work, but isn't it worth a shot?"

Ben doesn't know how to explain that he's tried and tried to find Luke through the Force, and the only thing it's ever brought him is tears of frustration. There's _nothing there_. But his upset face must just look mulish, because Dad looks fed up.

"I don't know how to talk to you," says Dad. "I don't think I ever knew how to talk to you." It's true, and it hurts Ben deeply.

"Then just fuck me again," he snaps, and Dad's face goes white. Memories flash through his mind of the masked man with his son's body bent over the console, begging for it.

He wonders if he can get Dad to hit him. He vividly imagines the sensation of his lip splitting.

"What, don't think you can?" He smiles nastily. He's on more solid ground now. "You didn't have any trouble getting it up last time." He can never forget the feeling of Dad's cock sliding inside him.

Dad's nostrils flare in exasperation. Ben knows his do the same when he's angry. This isn't getting them anywhere. He cuts Dad off by stepping forward and catching him by the hips again. He loves that Dad has to tilt his chin up to look him in the eye. He's been taller than Mom ever since he was twelve, but he must tower over her now.

He means to try for a gentle kiss - he's trying to be less aggressive, be the good son Mom and Dad and Luke wanted - but Dad is still angry and he bites at Ben's bottom lip so Ben bites him back and it's good, really good. He gropes at Dad's cock and feels him respond.

It's easier this time: Ben reaches out and pulls the little bottle to them haphazardly, bouncing it off a couple of walls in the process. He takes off his pants and practically tears Dad's in encouragement for him to follow.

He kneels on the floor, pulling Dad down with him, and thrusts his index finger inside himself, practiced and rough. His eyes close, remembering the many nights he's spent doing this to himself alone. He savours the dry fitful clenching of his inner muscle as he presses the finger in as far as it will go, wiggling it until it rubs against the tiny swell of his prostate and sends hot sparking pulses through his belly.

Then he takes out his finger, grabs the lube, pushes Dad back and climbs on top of him. He gives him a hard kiss, sucking at Dad's thin lips and rubbing against him - _take it, take me_. He lubes up Dad's cock quickly and thoroughly, feeling the shaft harden in his hand as he jacks it a few times in a tight grip. He doesn't even think of getting a condom. Neither does Dad.

Dad is looking at his face, but Ben avoids his eyes as he guides the slippery head of Dad's cock to rest against his asshole. He watches the movement of Dad's throat as he relaxes his thighs just a little to let the head start to breach him. As always, for a moment it just feels weird, like someone handling his internal organs - and then the head pops in and the drag of Dad's cock sends hot tingles of pleasure into his belly.

It feels like it won't go in, at first: it's just too big, it won't fit, he'll tear. He's already stretched wide open. But he balances himself there on top of Dad until his muscles tire and he slides down another inch, and feels the head of Dad's cock nudging his prostate, sending bright hot sparks through him.

Another inch, then another - Dad's hands come up to seize his hips and Ben feels his pelvis rock as he tries to make it easier. He's thinking how tight Ben is, wondering how experienced he is. Ben remembers what he'd said last time - You're tight, kid. How old are you? - and wishes he'd say something like that again.

He's suddenly tired of waiting, tired of teasing them both. He sits down hard and lets Dad's cock slam into him fully in a burst of pleasure-pain that makes him cry out.

"Ben," Dad starts, but Ben cuts him off by wrestling off his shirt, suddenly too hot, then rolling them over.

"Fuck me," he demands. He can feel Dad's cock pulsing inside him, see his own chest heaving. The deck plating is hard and cold. Dad's eyes are very dark, the corners of his mouth tight. Ben spreads his thighs wider and wriggles beneath him, working his hips to try and fuck himself on Dad's cock. "Come on, do it!"

Dad seizes his legs, hands under his knees, and pushes them up to expose him completely - and holds them there as he thrusts once, roughly.

"Yes!" Ben exclaims, high and urgent. "Now!"

Dad drops one of his legs to grab his hip - his fingers dig in punishingly hard - and finally pulls out just enough to shove his dick back inside, hard. Ben gasps wetly and his eyes roll back in his head as Dad does it again, again, again. It hurts, sharp pain flaring at his entrance, set against the hot pleasure of Dad's cock inside his hole, rubbing his sensitive insides.

Ben wraps his other leg around Dad's waist and rakes his nails across his back, clutching at Dad's heaving shoulders as he ploughs him into the deck. Dad's cock opens him brutally, forcing its way in further than should be possible, making him whimper at every thrust. The pain and the pleasure are all confused, lightning up his spine and tears in his eyes.

Dad is making noises now, grunts of pleasure or effort. His mouth is open, his eyes fierce as he stares down into Ben's pink, sweaty face. It's even better than it was last time, Ben's stiff cock bouncing against his stomach and his father's cock deep in his ass. The pleasure is too big for his body to contain it: it overwhelms him, makes him shake and jerk and make helpless noises. He feels like he's coming apart at the seams, like when he comes he might just explode.

"Harder!" he begs, hanging onto Dad's shoulders, rocking back and forth. "Please, Dad, hard-" He breaks off into a whimpering cry as Dad fucks him harder, driving his cock against Ben's prostate, lighting him up inside. "Yes," he whispers, " _yes_." It feels like Dad's wringing the pleasure out of him, forcing his body to give up, give in. Ben's eyes roll back and he feels his mouth open as if he can't contain himself, as if he yearns to be penetrated in every possible way.

He can feel orgasm building in the pit of his stomach, tense and shivery. His cock, crushed between their bellies, is wet with precome and sweat. Everything seems to be coalescing in his abdomen, between his thighs. When he opens his eyes he sees Dad's face is a grimace of pleasure and effort.

All the achey-sweet pressure winds tighter and tighter and for a moment he feels weightless, suspended between his father and the sweat-slicked deck. Then waves of aching pleasure wash over his body, jerking and spasming and crying out raggedly, trying to curl up around the unbearable release. Dad goes still above him and groans in his ear, fingers clenching on his hips. Time stands still.

Then it's over. Ben cautiously unwraps his aching thighs from Dad's waist and sprawls out flat on the deck. It's going to hurt when he gets up, but he wants to lie here a while longer, glorying in the physical proof of his father's love for him.

Dad wraps an arm around him and nuzzles his neck.

"I'm sorry, kid," he says lowly. "I know it's not that easy. I just miss him. We both do."

Ben rolls over so he's facing Dad in return, pressing his face into his sternum like he did when he was a kid. Dad's contrite: the familiar aftertaste of so many arguments.

"I want to talk to him so much," Ben whispers into Dad's chest. "I was no good at being good, so I went with Snoke because doing it his way I didn't feel _useless_ \- and then it turned out I wasn't any good at being _bad_ either. I want Uncle Luke back." Tears well up. "I want him back and he's _never going to forgive me_." This is getting to be a habit, he thinks, as he sniffles into Dad's hairy chest. Does it embarrass Dad that his grown-up son still can't keep himself from crying? No, he's thinking about Uncle Luke - younger than Ben ever knew him.

"Uncle Luke kept telling me to control my emotions, but I couldn't do it no matter what technique I tried. And Snoke kept telling me that my emotions would make me stronger, but I just feel miserable _all the time_." He hasn't heard from Snoke since he boarded the Millennium Falcon, nor felt anything. He doesn't know whether that's a good thing or not.

Dad holds him tighter.

"Kiddo, this is completely out of my league," he says. "I can't - you know I don't get how all this stuff works. I just want you back with us." He's being completely truthful. They both know it's not that easy.

"I killed the other padawans, Dad," says Ben. It's all he's thought about for days: the feeling of a lightsaber going through flesh.

"Yeah, I know." Dad's hand is hot on his bare back. "Do you feel bad about it?"

"I don't know." Ben closes his eyes. "I was - satisfied, at the time. I felt I'd done the right thing. I proved myself." He licks his lips. "I was always the best at saber combat. It was - easy."

"Would you do it again? If you could go back and have a do-over?" Dad is rubbing circles on his back, like he used to when Ben was sick.

Ben has to think about it for a while. Dad's chest rises and falls against his. He still can hardly believe he's bigger than Dad now.

"No," he whispers at last. "Not because I think it was bad, but because then I'd have to leave you and Mom and never seen Uncle Luke again." Now he's really crying. "I hated you! I _hated_ you!" He digs his nails into Dad's back and mashes his face into Dad's chest. "I was going to kill you! And I _couldn't do it!_ "

Dad just keeps stroking his back as he cries it all out, his mind blank with grief. But there will be more: Ben finds there's always more awful things to purge in himself, awful wants and endless greed for love.


End file.
